


lion-skinned

by kurgaya



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Established Relationship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nakamaship, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5991505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was ever a reason to eat a Devil Fruit, Zoro supposes it <i>would</i> be in the process of saving his idiotic buffoon of a captain from a certain and most horrible death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lion-skinned

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY to [this weirdo](http://beanisaweirdo.tumblr.com/) :P When asked what they wanted for a bday drabble, they requested "anything zolu", and since romance is not my forte (and neither are drabbles, can you tell), my muse came up with 10K OF PLOT instead. So sorry.
> 
> Embedded [artwork](http://ichnisunshine.tumblr.com/post/142130169846/so-these-are-for-huufflepuffs-lovely-fic-that-she/) by the bestest person in the world!! THANK YOU!!! :) Check it out!
> 
> * a note concerning Luffy's signing is at the end.

 

Saving an isolated civilisation from the turn of the time against them, their Fate, predetermined, but no surer than the will of the New World, immortal only in its unpredictability, its winds and hurricanes, is not - and never will be - on the Straw Hat pirates’ list of _things to do_. These events do seem, however, to be _things that happen_ regardless of any pre-existing intentions, so the crew have become adept at shrugging off evil rulers, berserk wildlife, and all manner of supernatural forces that seem to charge their way.

The feasts are a bonus though; indulgence until even the night has grown round and lazy with gluttony, spilling hours into the evening like the endless slop of alcohol, tankards of foam and burgundy brew. Food is aplenty, extravagantly so, but the crew are always up for a challenge. Although, feasts are never a feat they cannot conquer; Luffy, himself, is a one-man army versus a banquet worthy of kings.

He always wins (of course he does, he's _Luffy_ ). He’s a bottomless pit, ensured to devour all duck, chicken, and turkey that come flying his way on silver platters and china plates. It's endearing, and it's disgusting, but it's mainly a source of amusement (and bemusement) for all those unfortunate enough to be sitting close by.

But while the entertainment of watching him swallow nations’ worth of food is endless, it has never before gotten them into trouble - until now.

Their hosts are a people with spring’s complexion, wide, dawn smiles and hair long and amber-gold like the night-less evening glow. So pale are their eyes that they seem like lilies from afar, white petals sunken into faces round with joy. _Disconcerting_ does not quite explain how their eyes blink slow and their pupils move unseen; _weird_ doesn't consider the predator behind their gaze, and _frightening_ is a word Zoro seldom uses, but would do, in this case, were anybody were to ask why he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol all night.

It is not that they're untrustworthy; it is that Zoro does not trust them.

He is not the only one. But unlike Robin’s sweet-talking tongue and Brook’s lamenting, intermission key, he has not attempted to conceal his vigilance. Let their hosts know that he is wary, let them know that he is watching, and let them know that he does not approve of the bowl of fruit being waved under his captain’s nose.

It's a nice bowl, he'll give it that, its circumference delicately painted to give the food a celestial, golden glow. Regardless of its prettiness, it is still a bowl containing pieces of a _suspiciously_ swirly fruit, so Zoro meanders over before Luffy does anything dumb.

Like eat it.

Their captain does not often ask for help, especially when mountains of food are involved, but Zoro doesn't miss the twitch to Luffy’s lips, the crease of his brow, and the way he reaches for his beloved hat of straw as the hosts prattle on about _heroes_ and _gifts_. He seems lost for a moment, small beneath the time-torn edges of straw, so Zoro clinks his katana to announce himself and is quite promptly rewarded with a brilliant smile.

“Zoro! Zoro, Zoro, Zoro -”

Luffy reaches for him, all elasticated and joy, and swiftly waggles the _what_ sign in the closing space between them.

_What are they saying? What do they want?_

Zoro doesn't bother greeting the hosts before asserting himself at his captain's side. His hands sign _treasure_ and _Devil Fruit_ under the table, and Luffy makes an inquisitive noise as both pirates turn their attention back to the two women watching with eerily hopeful eyes.

“Ahhh, sorry, I can't eat that!” Luffy says, dazzling them with a puppy-dog gaze and smile. “Thanks though!”

“But this is _tradition_ \- it would be an honour,” one of the women explain, exchanging a perplexed glance with her friend. “By _right_ you are to consume the highest fruit of the furthest tree. This is our thanks.”

She presses the bowl towards the captain, and Luffy laughs a little uneasily as his goodwill compels him to cooperate.

“Err, really, thanks! But I can't…”

It _would_ be just their luck that the fruit from the island's furthest point is a Devil Fruit, and given the way they've presented it in perfect little hexagonal pieces in a _salad bowl_ , the people here probably have no idea. Since their arrival, Zoro can't recall the crew’s Devil Fruits coming up in conversation at all, even when the people had exclaimed and hollered at Luffy’s atypical, rubber body. Brook, thankfully, had remained with the Sunny for the first day, so perhaps the citizens here have no concept of the devil’s fruit; perhaps they just accepted the crew’s eccentricities as things they cannot explain.

This would mean they have no knowledge of the consequences of consuming one, too.

“Oh, but you must!” they insist, their smiles twisting up into snarls sickly-sweet, and Zoro recalls how these people tore and savaged those who wronged them, and how they decimated a dictator so barbaric that the city blazed with a smog of ashes, roses, and blood.

(And lilies. They grow in such abundance here that it is no surprise that the townspeople wear them day-to-day, carrying them in pockets or tucking each little piece of death behind their ears).

“It's for good luck,” the other woman adds, although her smile gives the impression that it's really _bad luck_ that surrounds the gift; if Luffy doesn't take it - if Luffy _does_. “For you and our people. Please. We insist.”

“You must,” they say together, a single, emotionless tone.

The bowl is thrust forward, the sliced segments of fruit tumbling about each other as though a hand attempts to force the jigsaw together, pieces perfectly unnatural with their black and red and bumping, squelching, _tempting_. Luffy pushes it back, his face the sky clouding over the sun, and somewhere distantly a guitar skips a string, a glass shatters, sharp laughter resounds, and the party so engrossed in merriment and cheer seems to transfix on this exchange. The hosts, as one, hush their drunken glee, and the Straw Hat pirates quiet with them, flabbergast causing them to pause.

(Reevaluate).

(Consider how much danger they're in).

The _fight?_ in Luffy’s eyes is hesitant; different those these people may be, they have fought, bleed, and laughed together, and Luffy does not delight in turning on his friends. But the crew is the priority, ensuring the safety of their nakama is paramount, so Zoro inclines his head, acquiescing to whatever his captain may choose.

Only - Luffy doesn't choose. He sits, a frown perpetual, and glares hard at the Devil Fruit as though searching for a way to abide to this inescapable law. The hosts are impatient, confused at his reluctance; they believe the fruit to be a gift, their ignorance compels them, and their traditions are not things that the Straw Hats can ignore. Zoro can’t fathom a way out of this without _someone_ drawing the short straw, be it their new friends, dishonoured, or the crew endangered, and so when one of the islanders snatches forward as though to _make_ the captain consent, Zoro doesn't even _think_ before shoving himself forward and seizing a handful of the devil's irreversible offering instead.

It tastes _awful._

The result is instantaneous; their hosts withdraw, relax, merriment shining through the aggressive angles of their smiles. The party explodes back into a midsummer madness, music and dance released from the trap of time, but all Zoro is aware of is the taste of _death_ in his mouth. _Foul_ doesn't even begin to describe it; worse than anything he could have ever imagined, there's poison on his tongue, a sticky, rotting mouthful of tar. Swallowing it induces a dry wretch, gagging, _immediate regret_ , and Zoro wheezes a disgusted _thanks_ to satisfy the propriety of the gift.

The two women smile - really smile, diamond daggers of teeth and all - and ramble something that the first mate doesn't listen to. He wants to be _sick_ , wants to tear open his throat and rid himself of the taste, and so he reaches blindly across the table to the tankard of whatever his captain had been drinking.

It's ale. He downs it. The glass clangs as he throws it back onto the table.

(He supposes if there was ever a reason to eat a Devil Fruit, it _would_ be in the process of saving his idiotic buffoon of a captain from a certain and most horrible death).

Luffy whispers, “we _could've_ fought them all,” and Zoro can't restrain a bark of disbelief (the crew are _drunk_ , there's no way they would've stumbled away unscathed) - only, what rolls out of his mouth is thunder; a growl, soft and terrible, with a deep, rumbling echo like the snarl of a storm.

Every single person in the room jerks into a deathly, petrified still.

The Wadō Ichimonji is halfway out of its scabbard before Zoro realises that the sound had come from _him_. A hundred horrified eyes are staring at him; he doesn’t want to believe that he’s capable of producing such a nightmarish sound, but even Luffy is gaping at him, his treasured hat having whipped from his head to hang low around his shoulders. The captain isn't smiling - in fact, nobody in the room is doing much at all - and Zoro feels his stomach twist at the stench of _terror_ oozing from the crew.

“That was _awesome_ ,” Luffy blurts then, sounding a little too enthusiastic to be entirely sincere. He throws himself forward, leaning so close into Zoro’s personal space as though to scrutinise his first mate for further changes (although, truly, it is _their_ personal space; what's Zoro’s is Luffy’s and vice versa), and for a moment of pure and _entirely_ ill-suited domesticity, Zoro thinks his partner is going in for a kiss.

He jolts back, not trusting whatever _thing_ the Devil Fruit has turned him into. Growling at Luffy is one thing (if that could _even_ be called a growl), but god forbid Zoro _hurt_ him.

“Was that _Zoro_?” Nami calls from afar, incredulity pitching her voice high.

Luffy blinks at the sound of her voice but doesn't avert his gaze; Zoro, hands still clenched around his katana, swallows at his captain’s firm look and slowly unpeels his sweat-soaked skin from the blades to form the necessary signs.

“Sounds like someone’s had too much to drink,” Sanji says, but his jest is notably flat, as though the strange growl has frightened all hilarity away.

Chopper squeaks from somewhere in the room, edging out from beneath a table like the tiny frazzled animal he has become. “I've never read a case of alcohol consumption leading to side effects like that!” he says, scurrying over to Usopp, who seems just as prey-like with his big eyes and stuttering, terrified tone:

“Hey - hey Zoro,” the sniper calls, stumbling over his words. “That wasn’t you, right?”

“Yeah, Zoro-bro,” Franky adds, his voice booming out even as the islanders begin to find their courage and encourage the party back into swing. “What have you been _drinking_?”

“Oh no, no, it won't be the drink,” the hosts assure them, seeming to take Zoro’s animalistic sound in stride. With Luffy’s rubber, Brook’s bones, and Robin’s limitless limbs, perhaps this isn’t a surprise. They seem to think about it for a moment, pondering the question deeply, and look to each other for answers.

“Maybe the fruit?” one of them eventually concludes, but the others laugh, dismissing the idea as folly.

“ _What_ fruit,” the Straw Hat crew exclaim.

 _/Sorry/_ Zoro signs, exclusively to his captain. He doesn't regret saving their arses (he could _never_ regret it, even through such a thoughtless action), but he does regret the wariness, the way Chopper’s fur stands on end, and how he had pulled away from Luffy because he doesn't trust himself.

 _/It’s okay/_ Luffy signs back, despite the way the rest of the crew _panic_ as the islanders begin to describe their swirly offering. Their facial expressions say it all, disbelief plastered on with gaping mouths and jaw-dropped chins: there's nothing they can do though, nothing anyone can do, so Zoro shrugs at their squawks and spluttering and tries not to think of the sour churning of his gut.

Luffy says it's fine - so it's fine.

(It's not, really. It's far from fine. It's _Zoro’s just eaten an unknown Devil Fruit and it's turned him into a beast_ fine - which is _not_ fine, and it won't _be_ fine, but Luffy’s smile is easy now, sunshine hues and dimples of gold, so maybe it will be _manageable_ , if nothing else).

 

 

 

It's not manageable.

Robin’s research into known Devil Fruits only results in _more_ questions: a sliced up Devil Fruit is harder to identify than Zoro imagined, and none of the few texts the archaeologist possesses speak of a _black_ fruit in any form. When queried by the calmer half of the crew (which is strangely enough only those who have consumed a devil's fruit of their own), Zoro can only hazard a guess as to which category of supernormal abilities he has acquired.

Something in his gut is saying _Zoan_ (and that something is, no doubt, the digested remains of his most foolhardy decision to date), but the _scorch marks_ that sizzle into being beneath him whenever he remains stationary for too long suggest otherwise.

Franky has a _fit_ when an unlucky section of the Sunny’s grass deck decides to literally combust. Zoro doesn't so much as flee as strategically retreat - except, the rest of the ship is _wood_ , and both the swordsman and shipwright only seem to realise this once the upper decking begins to smoke.

“Why did it have to be fire?” Franky wails, soothing the Sunny’s charred patches with his great, metallic hands. “Can't you spontaneously emit something else? _Anything_ else, bro?”

It’s late, they’re drunk, and while Robin has consumed enough caffeine to breeze through a dozen tomes from the library without so much as blinking, Zoro just wants to sleep. His ears are ringing from the unsympathetic _thuwack_ of Nami’s Clima-tact, and though his nakama’s initial bellowing has subsided into mumbled curses of his name, an air of _you're an idiot Zoro_ still lingers foggy and dark about him.

“Well I can't exactly control it yet,” he grumbles, having resorted to pacing while the crew wrack their brains for a solution. How is he going to nap if everything around him _burns_? “What do you want me to do - just tell it to stop?”

“ _Yes_!” Franky howls, which is how Zoro finds himself trying to reason with little splodges of cinders and ashes as his nakama look on and chortle.

“Maybe you need to ask _nicely_ ,” Usopp laughs, which isn't really what Zoro is in the mood for. Brook’s suggestion is no more tempting (“Yohohoho perhaps you need to sing!”) but at least Zoro doesn't feel as guilty glaring down their musician when his face of terror is limited to hollow and bone.

Eventually he barks at them to all _go to hell_ \- and there is a wisp of flame at his feet, molten white and arctic blue, and from the embers appears a tiny flower, uncurling six angelic petals into the shadow from where he stands.

“Oh my,” says Robin, her gasp scarcely perceivable over Franky’s resulting screech:

“ _That's not cool Zoro-bro_!”

“WHOA!” Luffy hollers, louder than them all as he crashes into the conversation from somewhere inside the ship. A mountain of food is bundled in his arms, but he misses Sanji’s spluttering in favour of announcing: “Zoro can grow a GARDEN!”

Tirade breaking off, Sanji inhales his cigarette and begins to hack smoky, choked-off breaths of laughter.

Zoro’s face _blazes_.

“For god’s sake Luffy, how can you be thinking of food at a time like this?” Nami asks, signing along in an effortless exasperation. “He’s burning holes in the ship!”

Luffy blinks and munches his way through a drumstick before Sanji can collect himself. “What's the problem? Zoro just has to not stand still ‘cause he's leaving awesome footprints everywhere. So he can sleep in the hammock like always, ‘cause then his feet won't touch the ground.”

The crew exchange doubtful glances, but it's the best idea Zoro’s heard all evening, even if it _has_ come from Luffy’s mouth.

“It's worth a try?” Nami says, half-asking, half-expressing severe (understandable) scepticism. She signs _okay_ at the captain, and Luffy’s brilliant smile seems to soothe the last of her doubt.

“Hang on,” Usopp interrupts, curly hair exaggerating his frazzled expression. “ _You're_ not in danger of having your quarters burnt down.”

“Or turned into a meadow,” Franky adds glumly, still casting regretful looks at the oblivious white flower.

Brook is the only one who seems enthused by the idea, but being dead has limited the number of things that seem to faze him. “And what a beautiful meadow it would be! Truly, there are worse Devil Fruits to have consumed, are there not?”

“He's _burning everything_ ,” Franky blurts.

“And he was definitely the one who _growled_ ,” Usopp adds. “Hey Chopper, you'd know - what sort of animal -?”

The sniper blinks, his whirling around drawing the attention of the rest of the crew. As one, they look to the ground for their smallest, fluffiest nakama, only to discover that the doctor is nowhere is been seen.

“He came back with us, right?” Nami asks, lifting an eyebrow at the swordsman. “Zoro?”

He shrugs, feeling that curl of discomfort tighten in his gut. Watching out for Chopper has long been his self-assigned (well-loved) job, but how frightened the little reindeer had been during the feast had distressed him in ways he'd rather not think about. The rest of the evening had dragged past with an increasingly notable distance between them, and now Zoro regrets how selfish his decision not to approach his nakama had been.

“Fear not,” Brook sing-songs from above them all. He has stepped forward in silence, unnaturally so for a body that creeks with bone, and now he lays one skeletal hand on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro cringes, acutely aware of the damage he has wrecked upon the Sunny, but it appears that Luffy is correct in his hypothesis, and Brook’s hand doesn't burn.

The musician smiles and gives the first mate a strange, comforting pat. “He returned safely with us. I am sure he is just in the infirmary or in our quarters fast asleep. Perhaps we should take his example and all do the same? A conversation of this nature can wait until morning, can it not? We will have our wits about us then.”

It's debatable as to whether their crew _ever_ has their wits about them, but Zoro appreciates the gesture. Maybe he'll have greater control over his new and unknown abilities once he's _not_ drop-dead tired and buzzing with booze, or maybe he'll wake up and realise this has all been a ridiculous dream.

Doubtful, but maybe anything is possible out here in the New World.

 

 

 

“The asphodel flower is commonly associated with death,” Robin says brightly the next morning, when the random sprouting of flowers has made it clear that Zoro’s new quirks aren't going away any time soon. Lying awake all night willing the ship not to burn has done wonders for not spontaneously combusting whatever he walks on, but the flowers won't go away no matter how much Zoro glowers at them.

He's still only growing one species though, so Robin seems to think that the selectivity must mean something beyond being embarrassing and _absurd_.

“Trust Zoro to grow the creepiest flowers possible,” Usopp says, eyeing the asphodels scattered about the kitchen floor. Fortunately, they disappear once Zoro has walked far enough away from them, but this isn’t exactly a solution to the problem when he keeps producing more. “That would mean the Devil Fruit he ate is a Logia type, right?”

Robin shakes her head, which doesn’t surprise Zoro in the slightest. “Not necessarily. Logia Devil Fruit users can transform into a natural element. Yet Zoro-san has yet to show any indication that he is made of either fire or - well -”

“Flowers,” Luffy supplies helpfully, watching his crew’s hands intently as he shoves an entire stack of pancakes into his mouth.

“Yes,” Robin says, the quirk of her lips the only indication that she is amused by the idea. The others are not so considerate, chuckling to themselves as Zoro curses under his breath. “Furthermore, the Mera Mera fruit already exists, and having an effect on the surrounding environment while not ‘being’ an element or other substance is a Paramecia characteristic, not a Logia. However, I should think it’s unusual to simultaneously manipulate both fire and -”

“Flowers,” Luffy repeats, spluttering around a mouthful of food.

“- flowers,” she echoes, this time her smile expanding. “Zoro-san believing himself to be a Zoan type should be considered also,” she adds, signing for just a moment longer before concluding her thoughts and returning to her coffee.

“So we’re clueless?” Nami summarises, sighing heavily. Zoro wouldn’t say they’re necessarily clueless - he is, at any rate, producing things that can be considered clues - but if Robin has yet to discern whatever the hell he ate, then the rest of them are likely to have little luck.

“No, my dear,” Brook says from the other end of the table, his teeth chattering into a piano tone. “In fact, I believe the answer is right before us, yohohohoho!”

“So he’s a Zoan?” Nami says, just as Usopp asks _Logia?_ and Chopper squeaks _Paramecia_.

 _Helpful_ , Zoro thinks: pancake and honey splatter as Luffy laughs.

“Mythical Zoan,” Sanji amends, before quickly adding, “Do forgive me for correcting you, Nami-san,” in a rushed breath, confidence wavering as he fusses over his self-afflicted propriety.

There is a collective noise of awe about the room, tinged slightly by Usopp’s noise of uncertainty: “But aren't those… really rare?”

“Doesn't explain _what_ I am though,” Zoro grumbles, as conversation rises about the happenstance of Devil Fruit genotypes. “How are flowers supposed to help me do _anything_?”

“Throw them at people?” Sanji says.

“Bury people under piles of them?” Usopp suggests.

“Asphodels are often used to mark graves,” Robin notes, and Usopp laughs weakly, uncomfortable as he usually is whenever Robin’s cynicism shines through her quiet countenance. She is the only one who finds this entertaining, but this hasn’t ever bothered her.

“I shall have to research further,” she says, excusing her presence from the table. The others begin to make noises of being finished, but Zoro looks to Robin as she adds, “If you would be so kind as to keep me updated…?”

“Whatever. You'll be the first to know if anything weird happens,” he says, rolling his eyes dismissively, his hands occupied with translating. Luffy doesn’t appear to be paying much attention anyway, instead staring longingly at the remains of Robin’s pancake stack.

“Weirder than what’s already happened, you mean,” Nami deadpans, head slouching into her hand.

 

 

 

A shout of _bring in the washing!_ is the only warning those out on the deck receive that the New World is forecast to rain. Lounged out across the Sunny’s figurehead (the _only_ place on the ship that Franky holds no domain - and thus cannot reproach him for any Devil Fruit mishaps), Zoro groans in his half-awake state and blinks up at the sky. Noting with a lacking amount of comprehension that dark clouds are gathering like a shadow, like vultures ominous over prey, the swordsman yawns away his lack of sleep and rolls over, almost smothering himself on the bed of asphodels that have budded about him.

“Oh for _fucks_ -”

Then the heavens tear apart and it _pours._

 

by [ichnisunshine](http://ichnisunshine.tumblr.com/post/142130169846/so-these-are-for-huufflepuffs-lovely-fic-that-she)

The flower patch dies instantly, shrivelling away as though the sky has drowned them in fire, but Zoro doesn’t pay much attention as he slobs towards shelter. Stupidly, he heads for the lounge, only for Sanji to kick him out half a second later, yelling about _no rats in this kitchen!_ so he ventures into the men’s quarters instead, finding Brook there with the laundry baskets and Luffy hanging the washing up on Brook.

The skeleton wiggles his fingers at him in greeting, laughing along with the chime of his bones. One of Usopp’s undershirts stretches tight over his ribcage, and he appears to be wearing Sanji’s second-best jacket as a skirt, and Zoro honestly can’t be sure if their captain is entirely to blame.

“One of your towels is mostly dry, if you should need it,” Brook says, pointing to where it hangs. “And you look like you need it, yohohohoho!”

“Thanks,” Zoro grumbles, burying his face in the towel. Once he has finished rubbing the rain from his hair, he finds Luffy’s elongated head scrutinising something on his face just centimetres away. He raises one eyebrow and gives the captain’s head a gentle shove, encouraging it to recoil back into place.

 _/Zoro smells weird/_ Luffy signs, sticking his tongue out in thought. _/Like a really wet dog./_

 _/Is everyone out to insult me today/_ he replies, frowning at his other half. Brook laughs again, tottering like a ridiculous scarecrow, and Zoro glowers at him too.

Seeming not to notice the warning glare, Luffy repeats himself. _/But you do smell like a dog./_

Zoro lobs the towel at him.

 _/You telling me to have a bath?/_ he asks, hands careless, over-exaggerated, and complaining as much as he can. Only, a bath doesn't sound like a bad idea now that he's thought of it; it may be the single place on the ship where he won't have to worry about something catching fire or waking up surrounded by flowers, and considering he has scarcely slept for the past two days, that sounds inviting in the best of ways.

“Ah - Zoro! Zoro, wait!” Luffy shouts, abandoning the washing to chase him out of the room. In one gallant leap, he springs down the hallway and wraps himself around the first mate, halting Zoro’s trek up to the bathroom with a blurted:

“Zoro _can't_! It's not safe now. The water’ll be really dangerous!”

Oh. Right. He’s a Devil Fruit user now.

Sighing, Zoro scrubs a hand through his hair, mindful not to elbow the elasticated moron clinging onto his back. _/What about a shower?/_ he asks, realising that he won’t be able to assume his usual watch over Luffy and Chopper’s baths either - what good will he be if they _all_ drown? Sanji’ll have to pick up the slack with the captain; god forbid they leave Usopp and Luffy unsupervised.

(Sheesh. What sort of first mate is he now?)

“Not for too long,” the captain replies, atypically solemn for a conversation between them. Luffy rarely needs his ‘captain’ tone around Zoro: being able to protect himself, Zoro hardly finds himself in a position where it’s necessary, but as he understands the severity of his newly acquired weakness, the swordsman relents without complaint.

_/Shower it is then. Come on./_

Luffy squawks as he's hauled off through the ship, the roles of captive and captor turning tables. “But Brook - the laundry -!”

_/He can untangle himself. You can come and tell me when I stop smelling like a dog./_

The smile Luffy presses into Zoro’s shoulder contradicts his whine. “But I don't like showers…”

Zoro laughs, unsympathetic, and makes sure the captain’s limbs are all tucked in tight as they squeeze through a doorway. _/Tough luck. Quit your whining. I'll make it worth your while_. _/_

“You'll help me raid the kitchen?” is the hopeful mumble into his neck, and Zoro’s laughter increases at Luffy’s predictability.

_/Course I will. The cook ain't a match for both of us./_

 

 

 

The _wet dog_ stench clears away eventually - according to Luffy, at any rate - and Zoro only thinks to mention it to Robin when she queries the nature of the growl he had released at the last island. She words the question far more sensitively than necessary; Zoro _gets_ that only an animal could have made such a sound, and he says as such with a shrug, seeing little point in treading around the subject. He can't change whatever the Devil Fruit has turned him into; mythical creature or just plain _beast_ , he's probably not even human anymore, and he guesses he'll just have to deal with that.

Robin seems surprised at his reasoning, lowering her text to give him a significant look over the gold-lined edge. Her full attention never bodes well for anybody, but Zoro won't ever admit to squirming a little in the chair opposite.

“Am I not a human anymore?” she asks, and he curses his stupid mouth for letting it run away unbidden in front of her.

“That's not what I meant. You've just got extra arms and stuff.”

“How about our doctor? Is he not a reindeer anymore?”

“Don't turn this against me -”

She raises one eyebrow, far more frightening that he ever could be, and some primitive warning system in the back of Zoro’s mind screams _abort!_

“Alright, fine, whatever,” he says, relenting with as much dignity as possible. Fortunately, the rest of the crew aren't around to witness the melting of his backbone to gloop. “Just forget I said anything. It was dumb. I definitely _barked_ though, right?”

Robin smiles in her weird joyless manner, _allowing_ more than accepting the shift in conversation. “It may be premature to make that assumption, but yes, perhaps the two events are connected. It may be that the captain's observation offers insight into the nature of your Devil Fruit.”

“So I'm a dog.”

“Oi Zoro,” Nami calls from the upper deck, leaning over the banister with a watering can in her hand. (That she needs to tend the tangerine trees despite the morning’s rain says a lot about the wacky weather of the New World). She tips her hat back to reveal a wicked smile, her amber face of freckles embellishing a phoney innocence. “Say that a little louder why don't you, I don't think Sanji heard you.”

“Shut up you -”

“What did I not hear, my Nami-san?” Sanji asks, appearing from somewhere behind her carrying a tray of iced drinks.

“Zip it, curly-brow.”

“ _You_ zip it, meadow-head. Was I talking you to?”

Robin laughs, amused by their banter in a way few people are. “Well, I wouldn't have put it quite so crudely,” she explains, which amounts to _yes, you're a dog_ in anybody else's terms. “But I am curious as to which one.”

“What do you mean?” Zoro asks, waiting until Nami and Sanji’s conversation drifts away before speaking. Nami eavesdropping is one thing, but there's no way he'll tolerate the cook taking the mick.

“You are likely still a Mythical Zoan. Discovering which mythical creature or deity your powers are associated with is still in question. But if you are some form of canine, then that narrows down the options significantly.”

Zoro isn't sure he appreciates the gleam in her eyes. “That doesn't really make me feel any better,” he admits, and Robin gives him a _look_.

“Was it meant to?” she asks, overcome by laughter once again.

 

 

 

The first watch of the night befalls Nami, so from the moment she coops herself up in the crow’s nest after the crew have stumbled to bed, Zoro makes himself comfortable in a dark corner of the deck. Asphodels still frequent the places he lingers - the kitchen, again, will require a trim or a blaze from a cook’s angry kick - and while Zoro has achieved some control over the spontaneous burning, _some_ will never be good enough; _a few_ plants are still a few too many.

He lays his three swords on his lap, ensuring the Wadō Ichimonji’s angelic pearl is closest. Meditation lulls him naturally, a tranquillity so practiced that he almost slinks into slumber. He's tired, weary with wakefulness, and wants nothing more than to curl into bed, but he's an unknown now, unpredictable with it, and Zoro will not accept such uncertainty about himself.

If he's some hellish mythical animal, so be it. As long as he can control his powers and keep his nakama safe, he doesn't care for whatever category Robin researches him into.

(Although, if he _is_ a dog, he's never going to hear the end of it).

(Goddammit he hopes he's not a dog).

When the change of the night shift ebbs closer, sounds of somebody moving below deck draws Zoro into awareness. Cracking his sole eye open to inspect the damage to the Sunny, he is pleased to note that nothing has scorched or sizzled about him, although a flower or two have attempted to sprout beneath his feet. It's progress - not much, but then he is intimate with patience, hard work, and perseverance, so it’s of no surprise. Whether or not he'll make it to the men's quarters without trailing the ghostly flowers across the Sunny is another matter entirely, but he doesn't suppose he can squish them into submission, and burning them definitely isn't a good idea.

He waits until Franky has relieved Nami of her post before ducking into the men's room. While meditating has calmed him, Zoro still finds himself restless as he clambers into bed. He huffs, wondering if (for a second night in a row) he is due to get no sleep, and rolls onto his back to frown up at the ceiling. Only, the turn of the darkness about him reveals Luffy standing there, and the captain and first mate both startle at the other's apparent insomnia.

 _/Can I sleep with you tonight?/_ Luffy asks, hands moving as fast as his mouth would, the unspoken language like the blur of his plate as he swallows down a feast. The late evening hour has silenced the men's quarters, and the only sound apart from Usopp’s occasional snore is the roll of the sea against the Sunny, a great rushing of emerald and foam swaying the slumbering ship. Luffy’s voice will probably not wake the crew, but he has always preferred to sign in the quiet, when chatter has lulled to merely two converses, or three.

 _/I know you were worried last night/_ he continues, referring to Zoro’s terse refusal at sharing a bed. Luffy had pouted and whined but seemed to understand, slinking off to his own bed to shake out the blankets that he scarcely seems to use. _/But it's okay now?/_

Zoro presses his lips together and makes the mistake of searching for Luffy’s eyes through the gloom; _puppy-dog_ and _pleading_ don't quite exemplify his expression, but then, Luffy doesn't truly have to put much effort into swaying the will of his first mate.

Sighing, Zoro opens up the blanket cocoon and gestures an invitation. Luffy emits a gleeful sound and wiggles his way inside, squeezing himself against Zoro’s side. He shuffles and fidgets for a moment that drags on, a habit that Zoro has long since grown used to, but then dots Zoro’s shoulder with an apologetic kiss - or a thankful one, or a happy one, or just one kiss of many as they settle down to sleep.

“Zoro can sleep now, right?” Luffy asks, because he can't sign like this, not while clinging to his other half in such a tangle of limbs.

Zoro can though, so he lifts his hands to the ceiling as though directing a gaze to the stars. _/I don’t know/_ he says, signing slowly. _/I only napped today. I don't know what might happen./_

“I'll wake you if something happens,” Luffy promises. “If Zoro doesn't want his Devil Fruit to hurt people, then it won't. Ace never hurt his nakama.”

Speechless in the face of such conviction, Zoro drops his arms, tucking one back around Luffy’s back; the other, he submits to his partner's searching hand. He doesn't sign _thank you_ but Luffy knows it anyway, smiling a hot breath across the creases in Zoro’s shirt.

Nothing disturbs them that night, not even Franky trudging past and knocking the hammock into a gentle, sea-shore sway.

 

 

 

The Sunny sails on, and life continues. Having not yet grown tired of the ceaseless days at sea (although all but Luffy will; their soul are steady, earthy things, tempted by the ocean like shorelines along the cove, whereas his is how the sky meets the sea, a collision of opal and sand along horizons long and free), Zoro spends the hours doing what he always does. The mystery of his Devil Fruit offers some entertainment to the crew, the novelty of the change yet to wear off, but no amount of poking and prodding from curious hands can encourage him to actively explore the realms of his powers.

The superhuman strength and unpredictability granted by the Devil Fruits aren’t things he has ever needed before, and Zoro is content to train until his footsteps cease mucking around with nature, and then focus his attention back on swordsmanship. To be the _world’s greatest swordsman_ is his dream - not the _world’s greatest Devil Fruit user_ , and what good will spontaneous combusting or, god forbid, _barking_ do for his dream?

Realistically, the only thing the Devil Fruit has to offer is more _weaknesses_. He’s susceptible to sea-stone and he can’t even _bathe_ now; showering is fine until the bathroom becomes thick with steam and he has to _crawl_ his way out, but baths are a no-go. It’s not like he frequently had them anyway, but spending a few hours in a bathhouse with all of the added luxuries was something he looked forward to whenever they docked. Unless he drags one of the non-Devil Fruit using men with him, he won’t be able to do that anymore, and considering that’s Usopp, Franky, and _Sanji_ , that ain’t happening.

Over half of their crew are Devil Fruit users now. Luffy would say that’s _awesome_ , but Zoro knows that the odds are against them - they’re more vulnerable than ever to sea-stone (especially since the captain _and_ first mate are users), and even though the marines aren’t yet aware of Zoro’s new abilities, there’s no doubt that they’ll find out eventually. So far all Zoro’s done is growl, grow flowers, and _burn things_ , and considering he may or may not be a _dog_ , he isn’t sure he wants to know what else his Devil Fruit has up its sleeve.

“Alright, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed that the birds are acting super weird today, right?” Franky asks one afternoon, leaning on the ship’s wheel as though his elbows are experienced enough to guide the Sunny on her way. In one hand rests a thoughtful expression, and the shipwright glances back at the deck before adding, “Or have I missed a memo about something?”

The majority of the crew are out on the deck, the weather calm and pleasant for now. Having tried and failed to lure any unsuspecting fish into their aquarium-cum-emergency food tank, Usopp has resorted to painting and Luffy has found a comfy place to kip - this being Zoro’s lap, and while Zoro isn’t averse to assuming the role of Luffy’s pillow for the afternoon, his legs certainly won’t agree with him later.

“I would speculate that they are keeping their distance for the same reason that Chopper-san has yet to remain in a room with Zoro-san alone,” Robin calls back offhandedly, turning another page of her book. She’s as unabashed as ever, so dedicated to gaining knowledge that the concept of social niceties is hardly worth her time.

“Huh,” Franky says, long-since used to her frankness. He slumps back over the wheel, smirking more to himself than the birds in the sky - circling the ship in a weird, wonky formation as they are. “That's not very super.”

Zoro doesn't notice that his hand has stilled in combing Luffy’s hair until Chopper glances over, emits a squealing noise, and then tries to hide himself in the box of paints that Usopp has out on the deck.

“I can't help it!” the doctor cries, knocking a horrifyingly neon green paint pot into a spin. Rushing to keep it from spilling only seems to heighten his distress, and he looks out wildly for any sight that Usopp may soon return.

 _/What’s wrong?/_ Luffy signs, blinking up at Zoro’s deathly stillness. He rolls over, squishing his cheek into the first mate’s lap, and peers out across the deck to spy Franky, Robin, and Chopper, considering their varying expressions with a critical eye.

 _/Don’t worry about it/_ Zoro signs back, nudging his knee so that Luffy flops back over again. Only, the captain is having none of it, and he blinks at the dip of Zoro’s brows before sitting up, drawing the attention of the deck.

“Chopper’s been avoiding Zoro,” is what he concludes, speaking to the doctor now. Chopper makes a guilty sound and tugs his hat over his eyes, ears twitching down with his spirits, and Zoro’s mood falls with them.

“It’s just -” the reindeer tries to explain, clacking his hooves together. The version of sign language he translates with is sometimes tricky to interpret, but Luffy is nothing if not adaptable when it comes to his crew. “You just - _smell_ really scary?”

Now is not the time to bring up smelling like a wet dog, but Zoro gives his captain a helpless glance anyway, unsure on how to breach this topic. Whatever it is about him now that is warding Chopper and the birds away isn’t going to change any time soon, but beyond forcing the other Zoan to reduce the distance between them and _deal with it_ , Zoro can’t think of anything to do.

Although, since this is exactly what Luffy does, it couldn’t have been that terrible of an idea.

“Nu-huh,” the captain says, entirely serious despite the immature choice of words. He throws his elasticated arms out, and before Chopper can even consider fleeing the rubbery grasp, Luffy has yanked him across the deck to crash-land in his lap.

(Zoro _oofs_ despite himself, and for the briefest of moments, Chopper’s mouth twitches up into a smile).

“Chopper’s got nothing to be scared of,” Luffy continues, tilting back the reindeer’s hat to reveal his button-blue nose and watery eyes. “It’s just Zoro.”

“I’m definitely something to be scared of,” Zoro deadpans, trying to salvage _some_ of his dignity. There are plenty of pirates and marines out there who would agree, but Luffy is unswayed by his grumble.

“Give him a swat for me, would ya Chopper?” he says cheerfully, bouncing the reindeer as one would with a child. “I heard that.”

“No you didn’t,” Zoro says, signing along partly because Luffy does need the translation, but mostly because he’ll take any opportunity he can to poke fun at his other half.

Luffy sticks his tongue out, laughing along good-naturedly. “Well I _saw_ you say that. Come on Chopper, I can’t reach him. He won’t bite, honest.”

“I’m not sure beating up my problems will work for me,” Chopper whispers, although the way he looks at his hooves suggests he’s definitely contemplating the method. “I mean - not as well as it works for _you_ \- err - oh gosh that sounded terrible -”

Zoro laughs so hard that he almost concusses himself on Sunny’s figurehead. The _thuwack_ of his skull against the wood is so loud that Robin actually drops her teacup. “ _Fuck_! Ow, fucking hell, dammit, why the _fuck_ is that there - ?”

Chopper giggles, attempting to smother the sound behind his hands because his doctor’s code implores him to emphasise.

“See?” Luffy says, beaming triumphantly despite Zoro’s sounds of agony. He pokes the reindeer’s nose, making a silly face. “Not scary at all.”

“ _Oh_ ,” the doctor sighs, laughter fading away. “Oh, well, I suppose I could… Do you want me to have a look at your head, Zoro?”

“ _No_ ,” Zoro wheezes, clutching the back of his head. There are tears of pain in his eyes, but he’ll be damned before telling Chopper that. “I’m okay.”

Unconvinced, the doctor springs up from Luffy’s lap, quite unashamedly trampling all over the captain in his haste to check the swordsman’s health. “Are you seeing dots?”

“What - no -”

“Double-vision? Are you -?”

“No, really - wha, hang on! Don’t climb up without - what if you _fell off_ \- !?”

“Stop squirming, let me see. Turn your head - further - yes - maybe you _should_ have a bath -”

Zoro squawks - or tries to, finding it difficult with Chopper’s hooves pressing into his cheeks. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

The doctor shushes him, his glare rather terrifying from two inches away, and though Zoro whines as he submits to the prodding, he holds the tiny reindeer a little tighter anyway - just in case.

“Do you still think I need a bath?” he says afterwards, now squished beneath both of his nakama. Having decided that his job is done, Luffy has dozed off again with his beloved hat over his face, but it is Chopper who Zoro addresses anyway as he smooths downs the reindeer’s fuzzy fur.

Chopper is quiet for a moment, nuzzling further into Zoro’s stomach. He's tiny in the swordsman’s arms, a ball of fluff with a tuff for a tail, and Zoro hates that he has frightened his smallest nakama - even accidentally, with good-will.

“No,” Chopper says eventually, shaking his head into Zoro’s ribs. “It's not a bad smell, it's just…”

Zoro hazards a guess. “Fear?”

The reindeer nods, then shrugs, then says, “I'm sorry I avoided you. I should’ve - I mean - I'm a _doctor_ , you might have needed me -”

“Don't worry about it,” Zoro says, scrubbing a hand through Chopper’s fur. The doctor squeals, wiggling under the affection, and Zoro feels a knot loosen from his shoulders at his nakama’s gleeful sound.

“Do you regret eating your Devil Fruit?” Chopper asks, a little breathless from giggling.

Zoro thinks of his new vulnerability to water, his nakama’s wariness, and the burns he inflicted upon the Sunny, and then imagines a circumstance where he hadn't eaten the fruit, where Luffy may have risked everything and then horrifically lost it all.

He says, “No.”

Chopper nods, snuggling closer, and Luffy shuffles in his sleep and stretches out a smile beneath the brim of his hat.

 

 

 

Even the fish are scared of him.

“D’you think the reason we haven't caught anything for a few days is ‘cause of Zoro?” Usopp asks some time later, uttering it more as an afterthought as he rubs his chin and levels the chessboard with a hard look. The aquarium bar is peaceful this time of day, as the cook prepares dinner and Nami works on her maps, and Brook and Franky can be heard singing at the tops of their lungs some distance away.

“Like the birds?” Chopper asks, sitting opposite the frowning sniper and neatly arranging the captured white pieces in a line.

Lounged on the sofa by the aquarium, Zoro wants to comment on how _ridiculous_ that idea is, but Chopper and Usopp turn as one to the fish tank behind him; they blink, he blinks back, and then he tilts back his head to inspect the tank.

Every single fish turns at a right angle and swims a half-square away from him before continuing around the room.

“Man, what fruit did you _eat_?” Usopp asks.

“Eat?” Luffy parrots, likely only managing to lip-read the last word as he interrupts the conversation. He tips a packet of doritos into his mouth, squeezing himself out of the dumbwaiter as though he has any right to be there.

 _/How did you manage to sneak that past Sanji?/_ Usopp asks, gesturing to the plate of biscuits that Luffy pulls out of the service elevator.

“Robin helped,” the captain replies around a mouthful of food. “She wanted coffee ‘cause she's reading.”

 _/Won't he be angry?/_ Chopper signs, looking faintly worried as Luffy strides over and offers up the plate. He takes a biscuit anyway, adding _thank you_ with one hand, so he can't be that concerned over the captain’s possible demise.

“Sure,” Luffy says. Unfazed by this, he takes a seat beside Usopp, peering around the sniper’s mass of curls to wave the snacks in Zoro’s direction.

An almighty crash from the kitchen echoes down the dumbwaiter.

“Uh-oh,” says Luffy, seeming to think better of sharing around the biscuits and instead holding them close to his chest to minimise the number of victims of Sanji’s fiery ire.

“ _LUFFY_!”

“Was that my name?” Luffy chimes, earning a pair of sympathetic looks from the two beside him. Zoro merely rolls his eyes, gesturing to the dumbwaiter as he nudges his other half from the chair.

_/Better send that plate back up./_

The captain cracks a grin, laughing his delightful laugh. He follows his first mate’s advice before fleeing the scene of the crime, leaving his three nakama to hear Sanji blow a fuse in the kitchen above.

“Our captain's an idiot,” Usopp says fondly, scratching his nose before returning to the chess match.

“Tell me about it,” the swordsman sighs. He leans an overly glum expression into a hand, propping himself up to watch the game. Sounds of Luffy and Sanji thundering about the ship crash and smash through the walls.

Chopper laughs. “Luffy’s perfect the way he is.”

“Obviously,” Zoro says, just as Usopp cheers, “Yep!”

Then they both declare, “He’s gonna be the pirate king,” and then grin at each other in bemusement.

“He's rubbing off on us,” Usopp adds, laughing.

“He definitely doesn't give us much of a choice,” Zoro replies. “Oi Chopper, move your knight into check. He'll have to sacrifice that rook to get out of it.”

Attention now recaptured by the game, the reindeer gives a merry little laugh - one that would be defined as a cackle if it were anybody else.

Usopp, though, definitely squawks.

“Favouritism!” he yells, throwing a pawn at Zoro’s head. It bounces off his crown and spirals under the table, and although nobody notices as it clatters by their feet, it begins to slowly smoke like the dying puffs of a cigarette.

“Oi!” Zoro barks, meaning it in jest, but Usopp and Chopper both startle from their seats at the violent, guttural sound.

“Zoro your teeth!”

“Are those your _canines_? Open your mouth!”

“Eh?” says the swordsman, and Chopper takes the opportunity to stare into his mouth. Behind the doctor, Usopp leans forward in interest, and Zoro scowls at the blatant disregard for his personal space.

“Hang on a second,” the sniper says, sniffing the air as Chopper makes awed noises at Zoro’s apparently weird teeth. “Can anyone smell burning?”

Blue nose twitching, Chopper pulls away to glance from Zoro, to Usopp, and up to the embers crackling atop Zoro’s hair.

This is exactly the moment Robin walks in and announces, “Ah, Zoro-san, I believe I have discovered a source detailing your Devil Fruit,” only to be overlooked by Usopp and Chopper’s thunderous screeching:

“HE'S ON FIRE!”

“ _EIIIII_ CALL A DOCTOR!”

“WATER. WE NEED -”

Alarm bellows down from the upper deck; something _shatters_ through the first floor of the Sunny, Adam’s wood blasting apart. A cannonball - and another - hurtles through the aquarium bar, iron nails and splinters exploding in their wake. Fisting a handful of Usopp’s dungarees, Zoro shoves the sniper to the ground and tucks Chopper beneath them, practically flattening the squealing Zoan to his chest. Franky roars from somewhere, cursing and enraged like the ringing in Zoro’s ears, great, baleful church bells of a sound tolling a deafening warning. Luffy yells from outside, elastic _snaps_ into battle, and the Thousand Sunny veers off-course as the bombing of distant cannons threatens to wreck the hull of the ship.

A gunshot _cracks_ through the bar - a gunshot of glass, the crackle of lightning; a hiss, a fissure, a cascade of salt-water and pressure, and the aquarium case implodes into the room. Sea-life and waves surge into the Sunny; Usopp screams (“NOT THAT MUCH WATER. NOT THAT MUCH WATER!”) lifting his hands as though to fight off the tide, and Zoro swears high and mighty into the flood, clinging to Chopper, reaching wildly for Robin, refusing to allow their own _ship_ to drown the two Devil Fruit users in -

Water rushes over him. Salt burns his lungs. Panic implores him to struggle: seawater demands that he sink down, _down_ to the deck, to the ocean floor and a grave beneath. He has never felt so heavy, dead weight, unworthy of saving in the eyes of the ocean - he deserves this, _you deserve this_ says the sea, and Zoro can't find it in himself to fight against a voice so sick and a death to be. He’s paralysed, he’s stone, he’s helpless within the trap of himself wondering if it is always like this - if it _will always_ be like this, and he understands now why it is said that the sea hates, and it hates, and it hates.

(There are three Devil Fruit users in here).

(Luckily for them, the sea does not always get what it wants).

Awareness returns slowly to Zoro; he coughs, splutters, splattering a lungful of water onto the deck. His body is lead, soaked through to the bone with oceanic hands twisted in his chest and throat, refusing to let go. Sodden blades of grass press against his cheek - the main deck of the Sunny, a blur of earthly green stretching out before him. He groans a groggy sound, muffled by the slop of grass and dirt in his mouth, and tries to mumble a question to remedy his daze.

“Chopper?” he slurs, recalling the feel of his fellow Zoan against him as the aquarium crashed over them. The little doctor is nowhere to be seen now, and Zoro lurches up with a panicked wheeze - or tries to, getting only so far as to feel someone seize the scruff of his neck, slamming him back down onto the deck.

At once, the uproar of the Sunny erupts about him. Marines overwhelm the deck, some unmoving, many injured, but most with rifles aimed true, scopes fixed unwavering on the scattered Straw Hat crew. Robin is slumped by the staircase, glaring through her waterlogged hair, and a marine stands beside her despite the handcuffs clamped onto her wrists, jamming the end of his rifle into her scalp. Expressing no small amount of fear, Usopp is at her side, and his eyes dart wildly around the ship as though seeking a plan or a miracle. Handcuffed like them both, Chopper hangs from the arm of a burly marine, and Zoro growls into the grass as the reindeer struggles, whimpers, and pleas.

“Please, I'm a doctor, please! Let me see him!”

“You’ve done enough,” the marine snarls, shaking Chopper so violently that the Straw Hat crew bellow in outrage. Nami and Sanji spit colourful curses, and Brook gasps a lamenting sound; booming over them all is Franky, louder than ever, but Luffy doesn't make a sound - wherever he is - and Zoro’s chest constricts at the thought of _Luffy_ being hurt.

“Gimme cuffs for this one,” the marine pinning Zoro says, gesturing out of sight. “Quickly, idiot. Before he gets up again. Should’ve just let him drown.”

Chopper emits a wailing noise, but there's nothing he can do as the marines snap the shackles around Zoro’s wrists. A jerk and a grumble are Zoro’s only attempts to get free - he could throw these lightweights off without breaking a sweat, but with Robin in danger and the safety of his nakama in question, the first mate gives the marines this victory.

“And for god’s sake, somebody do something about all these fish!” the previous marine bellows - the commanding officer, most likely, yanking Zoro onto his knees. The nature of the order becomes apparent with his new viewpoint of the ship; fish, dozens of them, flop and wiggle across the deck, gasping and flipping and dying in the remains of the aquarium tank. A group of marines are trying to tame a particularly ferocious species, its gigantic mouth like a cave of daggers and its eyes spinning wildly at its prey. It's a waste of perfectly good food and a lot of time and effort - no doubt Franky and Sanji are _seething_ \- but Zoro only has eyes for his nakama.

Luffy’s okay.

The marines soon won't be, judging by the captain's menacing expression - dark eyes, firm lips, a downward quirk of _danger_ to his mouth - but Zoro doesn't give a damn about them. The Sunny is wrecked, four of them nearly drowned, and almost the entire crew are in chains; those that are not, Luffy, Nami, and Sanji, wouldn't dare to make a move under gunpoint, but unless they think up something quick, Zoro wouldn't put it past the marines to start gunning them all down for the hell of it.

He craves the sensation of his swords in his hands, but there's not a lot he can do with his wrists shackled behind him. He hadn't been carrying the three blades while in the aquarium anyway - no doubt they were swept from the room in the flood, but there's no telling where they've ended up now. He's basically useless as the marines start hollering demands, shouting orders between themselves, at the crew, and jutting their rifles into their hostages for emphasis. A curse under his breath splutters into a cough, but Zoro’s wheezing only earns him a strike with a rifle barrel and a hiss to _shut up_.

“Fuck off,” Zoro snarls, and the commander shoots him through the leg.

He bites straight through his tongue to prevent a howl of agony: madly, he thinks _what the hell_ , before spitting out a glob of blood onto the marine’s spotless shoes. Saliva dribbles down Zoro’s chin as he smiles, smearing blood across his fangs and razor canines.

(...What was it that Chopper had said?)

The marines titter nervously at the defiance; the Straw Hat crew growl at the violence against their own, and Zoro’s smile falls as he scans the faces of his nakama. He takes note of the anger and the fear, but most importantly, the way the chained Devil Fruit users seem to be wilting, their bodies betraying weariness under the influence of the sea-stone.

Zoro only feels _more_ alert as their uncertain fate trickles by, the gold-sanded hourglass of possibility spilling on and on and on.

His handcuffs are not made of sea-stone.

He licks his teeth, tasting copper and agony on the tips of his fangs.

 _What_ he is exactly is still in question, but that doesn't matter if he can be _useful_ , if he can _use it_ to fight. He glances over at Robin, hoping that she'll understand what he means as he mouths _dog?_ and she smiles something sinister at him through the raven feathers of her hair.

_Hellhound._

Now _that_ is something Zoro can work with. _How_ is the next question; he closes his eyes, ducking his head, pretending to curl in on himself in pain to divert the marines’ attention elsewhere. Voices continue to rise around him, curses, orders, shouts of fear and cries of pain - he wavers, briefly, to see Nami punch a man in the face, but swiftly shuts out Franky’s whooping laughter and draws back into himself, thinking _beast_ , thinking _animal_ , thinking _hound_.

His growl reverberates across the ship, quiet to those close by, but the beckoning of a storm at a distance, thunder and lightning clashing into their monstrous reckoning. It is a sound he has not heard for days, a terror he hoped to never hear again, but it rises hellish and deep from his chest as he stands, as he pitches forward, as he scorches his handcuffs into a molten, smouldering mess.

Zoro is a monster of a mastiff.

The snap of his jaws is a thunderclap, the grind of his teeth is the rain. He breathes out a viscous, black substance that seems to singe and burn in the air. Yet it's neither fire nor smog - but something else, oozing shadows of a will-o’-the-wisp, a bog of flickering, embering darkness that spills like smoke from his throat, hot ashes of damnation boiling in his lungs and overflowing from his mouth.

He takes a step - one giant leap of a step - and the ground _erupts_ into flames, the charred sizzling of wood the only sound of his movement as he vaults across the deck.

The marines around him scream blood-curdling sounds. The Straw Hats, too, yell their shock as the hellhound barrels over the Sunny, his leaps the shake of the earth beneath them, but they are quick to take advantage of the mayhem. Gunfire rips through the afternoon sky. Rifles explode, shotguns detonate, and soon the ship is a pandemonium of Devil Fruits and crossfire.

Zoro takes no prisoners - though, as the harbinger of death, perhaps he takes them all.

It's slaughter. The marines stand no chance now that the tables are turned. The Straw Hat pirates are relentless, kicking, blasting, shooting, and crippling their opponents to defeat, and with every fallen man and every gurgling, painless, or agonised gasp of death, something in Zoro rages, urging him to tear and claw and _take_ like a chain around his neck, dragging him, yanking him on and on.

The hellhound battles until the last of the marines - pitiful, weakly souls as they are - beg a surrender, throwing down their guns into the rolls of the sea. Their commander is snared beneath the full weight of the Mythical Zoan, teeth and gaze and rotting, fiery breath, and he whimpers into the charred black of its fur.

At Luffy’s wave, the Straw Hats cease their fighting. The hellhound growls and snaps at the marine, teasing him with a nip from death itself, and Luffy’s voice is firm as he calls out -

“No.”

Fire crackles on the deck, lingering where the hellhound had dared to tread. A lone, demonic eye watches as the captain approaches, and a coat of shadowy fur bristles as he tips back his hat so that it bounces loose across his shoulders. He kneels, _too small_ beside the hulking form of the hound, and offers the Zoan a smile worthy of rivalling the sun.

Luffy reaches out and places his hand against the mastiff’s nightmarish muzzle. Bloodied fur sticks to his skin, but he is unhesitant as he strokes, pets, and fusses the threat from the Zoan’s snarling rumble.

“Zoro’s okay, right?” he asks, cupping the hellhound’s jaw in a gentle hold. Behind him, the crew begin to take charge of the surrendered marines, but Luffy has eyes only for the man in the body of a hound. “Let me know.”

Gradually, the mastiff rises up from the terrified marine, and plods with his limp to settle wherever the captain leads.

“You've got gunpowder in your hair,” Zoro says, trying and failing for humorous when Luffy merely blinks, smile slipping away. Worried, he nudges Luffy’s rubbery hand, fur pressing against skin with a sloppy squelch of blood.

Luffy’s smile returns. “I guess I can't lip-read hellhounds,” he says, scratching beneath the scar near his cheek. “Zoro should nod if he's fine?”

Relived that nothing is amiss, Zoro inclines his head. Embarrassed at having caused so much concern, he mumbles a few words of affection into Luffy’s skin, grateful that his other half won't understand.

Yet, Luffy laughs as though he has, and then presses a kiss into the fur along Zoro’s nose. “Love you too,” he whispers, and Zoro barks a laugh before quite clumsily flopping into a heap of human arms and legs.

 

 

 

The fleeing marines collect their dead, and as they do, they unearth a single budding asphodel from beneath the body of each and every man.

 

by [ichnisunshine](http://ichnisunshine.tumblr.com/post/142130169846/so-these-are-for-huufflepuffs-lovely-fic-that-she)

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was brainstorming Devil Fruit ideas for Zoro in a lecture (as you do) and as soon as I realised that Cerberus was a _three-headed_ hellhound, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. In saying that though, Zoro is not specifically Cerberus here - I actually pulled together various myths and folklore regarding hellhounds, for instance, the Church Grim in English and Scandinavian folklore, and the Cŵn Annwn from Welsh mythology. And of course the Cerberus from the Greek myth :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment as you go~ 
> 
>  
> 
> **A note concerning Luffy in this fic:**
> 
>  
> 
> Luffy exhibits a particularly rare condition (especially in such a pure form) called [auditory verbal agnosia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auditory_verbal_agnosia) or _pure word deafness_. "Deafness" is misleading as individuals are not actually deaf, however, they show a very selective language deficit in which they cannot _comprehend_ spoken speech. Individuals can hear, comprehend, and recognise non-speech sounds as typical, and they can read, converse, and write too (unless they are writing from dictation). They can also _hear_ speech, but they cannot comprehend it, hence the use of sign language.
> 
> I'm by no means knowledgeable in this condition, so my presentation may not be entirely accurate.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bleed Like an Idiot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837115) by [Augment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augment/pseuds/Augment)




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